Fan Fic - Visions, but only illusions...

[redBoobergurl]

*chills*
Thanks for the teddy bear Lisa. I sure do need it!

Great chapter Beau.

 

[TogetherAgain]

An excellent chapter indeed. Excellent. And did I mention Excellent.

So in this chapter, I felt stabbed right about... here.

“I believe…if we try hard enough, one day we’ll find it.” He thought of Kermit. Kermit the Frog.

“Find what?”

“Maybe our hopes, maybe our dreams. Maybe our star, or our rainbow. What do you believe?”

I'm shaking, Beau, and I hear two songs playing in my head. Predominately, I hear "The Rainbow Connection." But somewhere in there, I hear a line of "Follow Your Star." It's a potent combination. And I definately need my teddy bear.

 

[Beauregard]

Lisa, you might concider seeing a doctor about those stabs of yours....just kidding. Glad you heard those songs because guess what...I did too!

 

[The Count]

*Replying to Kim... Hey, had to go to the bat-room.
And then this old friend shows up at the dorms. Had to greet her and give her a hug for old times sake.

But I'm here now, and will make th rounds after this.
Was hexpecting the Ghosts to actually appear. Oh well, maybe next episode though.

Hey! Look at my post total. Four 4's.
That means... aaargh.
*Gets bombarded by cosmic moonbeams.
Noooo... What's... Happenin'...

Whoa, now I got fantastic powers! Cool!
Passes from normal human colored skin to automatically blend in with surroundings by means of translucent skin shaded to match surroundings.

OK, now you won't see me coming. Now I'm the master of the night, lurking in the shadows!
*Evil laughter.

 

[Skeeter Muppet]

Favorite line: "Yes, they had no bananas today."

*sporfle*

Keep going, Beau. You're doing great.

-Kim

 

[Beauregard]

Ok...sorry this is a short chapter, but I thought it had a perfect chapter end...I'll try to make the next longer, and we may have soem more...excitment soon...

__


They didn’t go away. And neither did the ‘ghosts.’ Gonzo began to settle into his cement truck, a little paint, a little furniture would have been nice, but he could hardly ask Fozzie to get it for him. He already felt bad enough that Fozzie did the food providing in their group…

Fozzie would disappear for periods of time, and always seemed to have food when he got back. Gonzo asked no questions. He didn’t want to know the answers. But he could see from Fozzie’s eyes that it was no longer what he wished to do. His face was drawn.

The police had arrived and towed off the car about a week before. Gonzo hadn’t seen Nicky Holiday since, but still had that twinge in the pit of his stomach when he remembered the slant of the eyebrows, the slight raising of the corner of his lip, and the hint of a smile when Nicky had seen the abandoned site.

Fozzie yawned at breakfast, one of their two meals a day. His eyes were red, tired. He confessed the ghosts had kept him awake. “Shadows,” he said. “And drums. They were beating on the roof, pounding out a rhythm on my trailer. Like, a war chant, or something.” He pulled his black scarf tighter.

Gonzo looked away. It had happened to him too. Scratching, drums, a cry. His eyes had opened one night, right in the face of a black thing with white or empty eyesockets…he’d stifled a scream, stayed still. The black thing and moved closer, barring teeth. He’d shut his eyes. When they opened, it was gone.

“About this crane,” Gonzo said. And that was it, topic changed.

*^*^*^*

Fozzie was out. Whether in town, meeting someone, or…just or, Gonzo didn’t know. He did know that he was out.

Gonzo usually spent his days getting lost in the site, either searching for another Amy, or planning his life ahead. What was it Kermit had said? You just haven’t found the right audience…then what was the right audience?

And how would he…where could he perform? At that nightclub?

Today, he had a different mission. He’d waited amongst the trash of the brown-snow covered skip, and watched for Fozzie’s disappearance. He’d seen Fozzie slip out of the trailer, lock the door, and hide the key someplace on his person. Gonzo guessed he would never know how or where that pickpocket kept things, he just had them, then they disappeared.

Now, Gonzo slipped out of the dumpster and ran across the open patch to the door of the trailer. He checked the door first. Nothing doing, he couldn’t get in there, not without being noticed. He walked slowly around the trailer. Maybe…bingo!

Ventilation. Presumably to keep the trailer smell free when bacon is being cooked inside the trailer. It was kind’a small…but…obviously bacon had some uses.

Gonzo fitted his hand inside the ventilation cover. There was a grate, and a fan. He pressed it forward, pressed again. He pulled his hand out. If only Amy were here…Gonzo grabbed the tin cover, and yanked it off. Now he could see, and knew what was needed. He picked up a rock from the ground, it would have to do. He smashed it against the grate, and the grate and fan snapped apart, falling down inside.

Gonzo leapt back, examining his handiwork.

“Nice,” he said. “Small, but nice.”

He put his hands in first, and turned them against the wall for leverage. Then he stuffed his head in through the square hole, and pushed, shoved, wriggled. His shoulders stuck fast. He took a deep breath, pushed harder. Slam! He fell out the hole onto the floor, rolling across the room and smashing into a table. The table fell, knocking thick-china cups to the floor. One broke. Gonzo’s face flushed.

He shouldn’t be in here.

*^*^*^*

There were photos. Beautiful, sacred. Glimpses into other lives. A family. Three children. A smiling wife or lover. Two old curmudgeons, but best friends. A father, a daughter, a son, a pet. Each photo framed on pinboards on the trailer’s walls.

A draining board had been remodelled into a display cabinet for wallets and purses, fine leather, or cheap material. Colourful handkerchiefs were pinned in open squares to the ceiling.

But this was not the trailer of one proudly displaying the stuff, but rather, a museum honouring those who he could not repay.

Gonzo shook his head, overcome with emotion. Fozzie Bear…this was not the place for him. He shouldn’t be here.

Then he saw it. The single photo on a wall by itself. It was square, taken, like the others, from a wallet. Kermit. Kermit the Frog. Gonzo could almost feel the intensity of his loving gaze.

The door opened. Fozzie was home.

Why did Nicky Holiday's eyebrows slant, lips twitch, and half smile. What does he want with their home? And...what of the ghosts...tune in next time...

 

[TogetherAgain]

<stunned silence>

...Kermit... the Frog...

<closes eyes>

Fozzie was home.

<stunned silence>

 

[theprawncracker]

WOW! I get home, expecting to write more RoE, and look, I have three chapters of this to catch up on! Just kidding, I loved it! Really wanna know who the ghosts are. I have no idea!

 

[Skeeter Muppet]

Okay, one word sums up Gonzo's situation at the end of that chapter perfectly:

Busted.

-Kim

 

[Beauregard]

Skeeter, that word did sum it up perfectly. I stole it for my first line, thanks.

Also, a little story. I was lying in the dark last night, and there was a rustling sound, and I kept pictureing that teeth-bared face from my story. I was too frightened to sleep...

__


Busted. Gonzo felt the blood drop out of his face. Fozzie’s hand remained on the door handle. Gonzo opened his mouth, shut it. Fozzie’s face clouded with shock, then anger. “How dare you,” he said through clenched teeth, not shouting, whispering. “How dare you.” His body shivered with emotion, held back, checked rage.

“Fozzie, I…” Gonzo said.

Fozzie felt behind him for the wall. He let go of the door, and closed his eyes. Leant against the doorframe.

Gonzo bit his lip. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else to say.

Fozzie’s arms hung by his side. He tried to hold back tears, but they came, cascading down his soft fur. “I don’t want…to do it any more,” Fozzie said.

Gonzo came towards him, put his arm around his shoulders. “You won’t have to,” he said. “I’ll…” He swallowed. “I’ll do it for you.”

*^*^*^*

The roar of an engine, and the screech of brakes. Someone, outside the site. Gonzo left Fozzie, and ran towards the sound. He skidded to a stop behind the pile of tiles. Oh no….

Black car. Double wheels. Tinted windows.

Gonzo decided he had to see who was inside. He skirted the pile, and belly crawled behind a row of pipes. He raised his head an inch, closer now. A window wound down. Gonzo ducked.

A smouldering cigarette end landed on the gravel. The red embers petered out.

Gonzo lifted his head again.

The car drove away.

*^*^*^*

Gonzo hadn’t gone ten paces, before the next vehicle arrived. Or rather, two vehicles. A motorbike, and an open backed truck. Gonzo dove for cover. It was Nicky, Nicky Holiday. And four others, plus a driver. The driver was big, with a black jacket, tattoos. The others were two women, and a man. The women wore gangly earrings, and high boots. The man hopped down out the back of the pickup, and walked towards Nicky. The women held cigarettes between their fingers, red painted nails.

“Nicky,” one woman called. “Is this it? This…”

“…dump” the other finished. They laughed with coarse voices.

“Just wait, Carla, Darla,” Nicky shouted. “Will be perfect.”

“That’s what you always say,” Carla complained.

“Like when you tried to blame the necklace robbery on Marla. You saw how well that worked out.” Again they sniggered at each other.

“But where are the diamonds,” Carla said in a mock English ascent.

Nicky waved them off, and spoke in low tones to the thin boned man. He pointed to various parts of the site, and swept his hand through the air in a chopping motion. Gonzo couldn’t hear what was being said. The tattooed driver honked his horn. Nicky looked at his watch, and started back to the truck.

*^*^*^*

When the truck drove away, Gonzo turned. He hadn’t heard Fozzie come up behind him. But he was there. “What was that about?” Fozzie asked. Gonzo didn’t know, but he had an idea, and he didn’t like it. They didn’t mention the trailer incident until supper. Over rye bread, Fozzie spoke. “You said I wouldn’t…have to do it any more, how, I mean…how?”

Gonzo pulled a chunk of dark dough from the bread, and chewed. “The answer is…I don’t know,” Gonzo said.

“You said that, you would do it for me. You would steal?”

“I wouldn’t...” Gonzo said. “I wouldn’t unless, unless a friend needed me to and there was no other way.”

Fozzie sighed. Gonzo went on, “But there is another way,” he said. “There is always, another way.”

They ate in silence after that.

*^*^*^*

Gonzo lay in the dark, and told himself over and over that there was another way. He didn’t want to have to steal. He wasn’t a criminal.

There was a tap, tap, tap of claws. Gonzo’s heart stopped, he couldn’t breath. A rustle to his left. Gonzo sat up fast. Nothing. “Who’s there?” No answer.

Gonzo stayed sat, he pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapped his arms around his legs. He kept his eyes open, fixed on a spot in the dark. His eyelids drooped, and closed. His breath came is light snores.

The figure rose from the floor, wrapped in a black coat of darkness.

*^*^*^*

At two o’clock Gonzo woke, scrambling, afraid. His eyes opened into the face of a hideous beast. He screamed. The beast screamed. He’d never tell which was the more frightened. Gonzo jumped forward, overcoming fear with action. He grabbed the beast’s neck, and knocked him to the floor of the cement truck. The beast grunted, and grabbed Gonzo’s arm, twisting it around his back.

Gonzo faced the exit into the back of the mixer. Something black-coated leapt there, and walked forward, snarling. A wicked tail snapped through the air. Surreal and fantastic faces danced, peering into the mixer from all sides.

Gonzo screamed again, but a thick hand clamped over his mouth. He bit the finger, and it released its hold. Gonzo shoved it back, and the creature fell. “Who are you?” Gonzo demanded. “And how dare you…” He remembered the words said by another. Fozzie. He wouldn’t think about that now.

“We are the ghosts,” a voice said. “And fright now we want to know who you are.”

“You are, you are... Fright now! Where are you? Who…” The words echoed around and around the faces, creatures, and the darkness. Then the leading creature lit a match.

To find out if it is, who you think it is. To get an answer to some burning questians. To generally have a cool time...tune in...next time...